One Indian Girl by Chetan Bhagat

‘I guess not.’ At another time or place, like at one of our Friday dinners, I would have liked to
engage in this intellectually stimulating conversation. Not now. I had other things on my mind.
‘Exactly,’ he said, ‘she says it is a way for men to control women and.. .’
‘My feet are killing me,’ I interrupted him. I removed my shoes. I brought my feet up on the
bed. My short dress inched up a little further on my thighs. Debu forgot his chain of thought. I guess
there are ways for women to control men too.
‘Sorry, what were you saying?’ I said. I squeezed and released my toes.
‘Huh?’ he said. ‘Nothing. I will give you the book.’
‘Not used to walking long distances in heels,’ I said.
‘Do you want me to give you a foot massage?’ he said.
And the Republic Day bravery award finally goes to Debashish Sen, I wanted to announce.
‘Really?’ I said. ‘You know how to?’
It was one of those stupid things girls sometimes say. We know it is stupid but we say it
anyway to act naïve or whatever.
I loved his hands on my feet.
‘Wow, that’s nice,’ I said. He pressed my feet timidly, as if I would get up and slap him any
second.
He massaged my shins. His hands slowly moved up to my knees. I didn’t stop him.
‘Do you have lotion?’ he said. I pointed to the bedside table. He took a bottle of moisturizer
and splashed it on my feet. I jerked as the cold lotion touched my skin. He put his warm hands on my
legs. He moved them in a sliding motion from shin to knee.
I closed my eyes. I could feel his hands reach above my knees. Nobody had ever touched me
there before, unless you count the waxing torture-chamber lady. Tingles of pleasure ran up my thighs.
He became bolder every minute, going higher. We didn’t exchange a word. He reached the
hem of my dress. His fingers danced tantalizingly upon my thighs.
Is this all moving too fast? a voice within me said. Heck, I didn’t care.
‘Is this okay?’ Debu said.
I nodded. I opened my eyes. I signalled him to bring his face closer to mine. He leaned
forward. Our lips met. I kissed for the first time in my life.
I could feel he had bottled up his desire too. His lips refused to leave mine. Our tongues
touched. I lost track of time, space and orientation. I had seen kisses in the movies. I had imagined
what my first one would be like. But this was better. Better than anything I had seen or imagined.
‘You are so beautiful,’ he whispered into my ear as he nibbled my earlobe.
He placed his hand on my breast, over my dress. He wanted to slide his hand in but couldn’t. I
would have had to remove the entire fitted dress to give him access.
I pushed back his chest.
‘Is this going too fast?’ I said. Like any guy would actually say, ‘Yes, it is.’
‘No. Of course not. It feels right,’ Debu said, one hand on my thigh.
He moved his other hand to my back, trying to find the zipper for my dress.
‘There’s too much light,’ I said. Sure, he had praised my body. However, I had never taken off
my clothes in front of a man. I couldn’t with so much light.
He switched off all the lights in the room. The window curtains remained open. The dim light
from the Manhattan skyline was just about enough for us to see each other.
I had worn a new matching pair of red lingerie from Triumph, in anticipation.
Debu pulled my dress off. He unhooked my bra from behind. He removed his shirt as well.